


Time Enough

by CaseyStar



Series: Merthur Party 2013 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/pseuds/CaseyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is too late to stop the prophecy, but while Arthur has accepted his death, Merlin cannot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Enough

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt Five - Not The End of Merthur Party 2013
> 
> As ever, dedicated to my lovely King ilurvedoctorwho
> 
> Over on tumblr [ kcsplace](http://kcsplace.tumblr.com), so come say hello here if you want.

He couldn’t be too late. Not after all he’d been through and overcome. Not after everything _they’d_ been through and overcome.

There. Just there, in the glint of the dying fires. 

Arthur.

He couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t. Not now. This could not be the end. 

Stones and dirt slid away from beneath his feet as Merlin scrambled into the canyon, falling to his hands and knees more than once, uncaring of how the skin of his palms was torn to ribbons. His old bones ached, his balance unsteady but all he could see, all he cared for was the man who lay unmoving on the dirt surrounded by the dead and dying.

He would not be amongst their number.

Throwing himself to the ground, hands flying to Arthur’s face, soaking in the warmth they found there, and eyes darting rapidly, desperately over the body before him, Merlin could have wept at the sight of Arthur’s chest moving but the wet rasp of his breath stole his own air from his lungs. Blood was pooling beneath the king, sluggishly pumping from a wound in his side and there, a dozen or so yards away lay Mordred, sword fallen by his body, sightless eyes seemingly fixed on the sorcerer kneeling at his king’s side, a grimace on his face easily mistaken for a smile. 

As he strode from the battlefield, Arthur safe in his arms, Merlin tried to block out the voice that screamed that Arthur was more than simply heavy, he was dead weight. Gaius was the most gifted physician the land had ever seen, and combined with Merlin’s own powers that had brought Arthur back from the brink many a time, this day would not end like the prophetic vision. He would move Heaven and Earth to ensure that.  
*** ***  
“Kiss me.” 

Merlin could almost pretend that the breathless quality to Arthur’s request stemmed from desire if it were not for how he could feel the heat leeching from his lover’s body, if he couldn’t see how he laboured for that breath and the pain etched in the wrinkles by his eyes.  
How was Arthur so calm?

“Kiss me,” Arthur repeated, firmer and the aborted movement of his too weak hand trying to pull Merlin closer tore at Merlin’s heart. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips against Arthur’s forehead, the salt of his sweat sharp on Merlin’s tongue. He bestowed gentle kisses to his love’s eyelids, ignoring how his own eyes burned with tears that spilled down his cheeks and dropped to Arthur’s armour.

Reaching Arthur’s mouth, Merlin gently coaxed his lips apart, tongue sweeping greedily in, his mind cataloguing the taste of Arthur’s tongue, the smoothness of his teeth, the texture of his palette. 

Arthur was going to die.

This was his last chance.

He couldn’t feel Arthur’s skin; feel the warmth he knew was bleeding from his love. From their first meeting Merlin had forever associated the scent of leather with Arthur; he had grown to love the aroma of beeswax and clean sweat and faint tang of metal that clung to Arthur’s skin, even naked. It signified _home_ and _love_ and _desire_ and _destiny._  
But now the leather that Merlin worked so hard to maintain was keeping them apart, keeping him from the feel of Arthur’s fingers in his hair as his lover tried to soothe him. 

“Thank you.” 

Merlin hears all the words left unspoken; all the words there isn’t time for, all the thank you’s that were left unspoken for years, because they both thought there would be another time, more time. Merlin hears all the love and gratitude and happiness and devotion that Arthur cannot find words to express. He hears them because he is choking on the same words and all he can say is,

_“Arthur.”_

Arthur doesn’t let go, doesn’t stop staring into Merlin’s eyes until death takes him. Merlin had once told Arthur he would be his servant until the day he died, but it was Arthur who lay in his arms once more, Arthur’s hand that falls from him.

Kilgarrah’s prophecy saves Merlin’s life. He had never planned to outlive his King. From the moment he saw the man Arthur could be, his very soul sang with the certainty he would save Arthur’s life or die at his side. Merlin had known from the moment Arthur had taken his hand and pressed it over his heart, asking him to just _stop_ , that he was not leaving this lake, that his own end would be here.

Merlin would wait all eternity until he could once more look into those eyes. For theirs was not a love, nor a story that ended with death; there had never been a man or a king like Arthur before. His birth had been magic and nature combining to create a being capable of bringing peace from war, of bringing equality to those of Albion, of replacing fear with joy. The Old Religion had ensured the protection of Albion and Arthur would once more rise when men forgot how to make peace, how to lay down arms and embrace.

And Merlin would be by his side.


End file.
